


moriyama yoshitaka, professional matchmaker supreme

by spaceburgers



Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: Humor, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-13
Updated: 2015-01-13
Packaged: 2018-03-07 10:46:27
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,285
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3171854
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spaceburgers/pseuds/spaceburgers
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Because Moriyama really should be paid for his services in getting Kise and Kasamatsu together, the oblivious idiots.</p>
            </blockquote>





	moriyama yoshitaka, professional matchmaker supreme

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Русский available: [Морияма Йошитака, сводник-суперпрофессонал](https://archiveofourown.org/works/4228707) by [Mey_Chan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mey_Chan/pseuds/Mey_Chan)



> currently working an iwaoi au fic! in the meantime (and to celebrate knb s3) please have some kikasa

Moriyama has always thought that after graduation he’d pursue a perfectly sensible career, like teaching or accountancy or lion taming. It only occurs to him in the middle of his third year of high school that maybe being a professional matchmaker wouldn’t be too bad either.

Clearly, _clearly_ he is destined for this, he decides. That’s the only reason why he’s been cursed with having to watch these two idiots dance around each other while everybody else looks on pityingly.

This is how it starts:

-

“I’m in love with someone totally out of my league,” Kise says mournfully, one day after practice.

Moriyama just stares.

“Out of your league,” he repeats. “ _Your_ league.”

Kise just nods solemnly.

“You’re a model, a star basketball player, and actually a genuinely nice guy. What is your _problem_?” Moriyama cries, probably a lot louder than he’d intended to. It’s the only thing he can do to stop himself from slamming his palm against the nearest flat surface. Maybe standing up dramatically with a bang while he’s at it.

On his part though, Kise doesn’t even have the decency to look surprised at Moriyama’s outburst.

He sighs.

“Maybe,” he admits, quietly, not even trying to be a shit about it, “but – he doesn’t care about all that stuff, you know? And he—” Kise makes some strange gesture with his hands that doesn’t really explain anything. “—he’s just so – he’s just so…”

Moriyama doesn’t really want to know just how _so_ this mystery person is. But then a realization clicks into place in his head.

 _Oh_ , he thinks.

“Wait,” Moriyama says, cutting Kise off mid-rant. “It’s not Kasamatsu, is it?”

Kise looks at Moriyama. Then his face abruptly turns a very starting shade of scarlet. Then his forehead creases. And then, horribly, he looks like he’s about to burst into tears.

“Yes,” he whispers, the complete picture of tragedy, and Moriyama should have realized at that exact moment that joining the Kaijou basketball team was the biggest mistake of his entire life up to this very point.

-

Because the thing is, Kasamatsu has had a _thing_ for Kise probably since the first time they met and Kasamatsu had to tell Kise off. Moriyama would say something about Kasamatsu getting off on that shit if it didn’t actually make complete sense – Kise is the perfect foil to Kasamatsu in almost every single way. Of _course_ Kasamatsu would fall for him, shit-eating grins and that ridiculously earnest attitude and all.

So it’s really not a secret at all that Kasamatsu feels all warm and tingly on the inside whenever Kise smiles at him. Even if he hides it well (or at least, he _thinks_ he hides it well, but nothing escapes the watchful gaze of Moriyama Yoshitaka), it’s still somewhat common knowledge among the third years of the basketball team.

What was definitely _not_ common knowledge is the fact that Kise feels the same way.

And so.

“Well,” Moriyama starts, because Kise still looks like he’s going to burst into tears, and Moriyama really doesn’t want that on his hands right now, Kasamatsu would probably throttle him to death if he ever found out that he’d made Kise cry, “Have you tried telling him?”

“Are you kidding?” Kise cries. “He’s only just recently started _not_ scowling whenever I look at him. If I told him that I – that I…” Kise’s face turns red again, and he coughs delicately before continuing. “…he’s not going to talk to me ever again, much less even _look_ my way.”

Moriyama is starting to feel the beginnings of a migraine.

“That’s not true,” he says, slowly, in the tone of voice one would use to explain something to a particularly difficult child. “Kasamatsu doesn’t hate you. If he did he wouldn’t care about you so much.”

“He cares about me?” Kise says, his voice dangerously hopeful, and Moriyama sighs. Loudly.

“Of course,” he says, resisting the urge to roll his eyes. “Why else would he kick you around all the time?”

Kise’s expression darkens again.

“I thought that was because he hated me.”

Moriyama opens his mouth to say something, then closes it again.

Kise just looks at him broodingly, and Moriyama really wants to grab him by the collar and shake him right now.

“Just,” he says at last, sounding strained, “talk to him, alright?”

“Okay,” Kise says, in the tone of the voice that implies that he’s going to do the exact opposite and never even breathe about it to Kasamatsu for as long as he lives.

Moriyama puts his face in his hands.

-

Somehow Kise must have gravely misinterpreted Moriyama’s advice, because instead of telling Kasamatsu that he likes him, he’s settled for telling _every single person who will listen_ that he’s hopelessly in love with someone far too good for the likes of him.

Obviously, Kasamatsu catches wind of this.

Moriyama looks at the sky and sends a silent prayer to the heavens.

 _Dear god_ , he thinks.  _Please lend me your strength._

“Kise likes someone,” Kasamatsu says, in the _exact_ same tone of voice Kise had used just a few days later, and it’s all Moriyama can do to not run directly into the nearest wall.

“He does,” Moriyama says instead, completely agreeably.

“Kise likes someone who’s _out of his league_ ,” Kasamatsu says, furrowing his brow. There are wrinkles on his forehead, and Moriyama wonders how many of those lines were put there by Kise himself. Probably most of them. “How am I ever going to match up to someone like that?”

This would probably be funny in hindsight, Moriyama realizes, but it is decidedly _not_ funny when he’s the one caught between the both of them.

He wonders if it’s not too late to transfer to a different high school. Maybe somewhere in the far, far north of Japan, as far away from these two idiots as remotely possible.

-

“Moriyama-senpai,” Kise says the next day, just as Moriyama’s about to leave the gym and get on home where he doesn’t have to be in the company of Dumb and Dumber any longer.

“Um,” Moriyama says, looking away. “Is this important? I have to get home to. Uh. Wash the dishes?”

“Please, Moriyama-senpai.” Kise’s expression is even moodier than that first time he’d gone to Moriyama for advice, if possible. This is definitely not happening to Moriyama. He’s a good person. He definitely doesn’t deserve this. “Did Kasamatsu-senpai figure it out? Does he hate me now?”

“No?” It comes out far too much like a question, so Moriyama clears his throat and tries again. “No, no, definitely not. Why would you think that?”

“Because he’s been avoiding me,” Kise wails, and Moriyama makes a mental note to slap Kasamatsu across the face the next time he sees him. “And I don’t know what I did wrong.”

“I’m sure it wasn’t you—” Moriyama tries to say, but Kise just soldiers on, completely nonplussed.

“Does he have a girlfriend? Or a boyfriend? Is that why he’s so weirded out by me?”

“He’s not weirded out by y— Oh my god,” Moriyama says, when Kise’s initial question finally sinks in. The thought of Kasamatsu dating _anyone_ at all who doesn’t happen to be a blond model-cum-basketball player is hilarious enough for Moriyama to have to contain his own laughter. “God, no, he doesn’t. He definitely, _definitely_ doesn’t.”

“How do you know that for sure?” Kise says, sounding distressed, and Moriyama just looks at him.

“Trust me,” he says at last, clapping his hand on Kise’s shoulder.

And then he bolts.

-

“This is ridiculous,” Moriyama groans to Kobori.

It’s been two weeks since Kise first told him that he happened to be completely smitten with one Kasamatsu Yukio. Moriyama is slowly but very surely losing his mind.

Kobori looks at Moriyama uncomprehendingly. Moriyama can’t even bring himself to care.

“It’s ridiculous. It’s _ridiculous,_ ” Moriyama repeats, sounding increasingly distressed the more he says it. Kobori looks like he wants to put a hand on his shoulder, but wisely decides not to.

It’s just that – things have gotten to a point where Moriyama simply _cannot take it any longer_. He’s always been a patient man, sure, especially when the delicate stirrings of love are in the equation, but this. This is just plain ridiculous.

In the past two weeks, Kise and Kasamatsu have each gone to him no less than ten times. In fourteen days. And considering the fact that he doesn’t even see them over the weekends.

Moriyama kind of wants to just shove their faces together and just end it once and for all already, but even in spite of his frustration he knows that love is a subject too sensitive for a method as crude as that. This requires something more… subtle.

“We are staging an intervention,” he tells Kobori, with as much seriousness as he can muster (Kobori actually looks kind of surprised at how serious Moriyama sounds, which would be offensive any other time but not when the preservation of Moriyama’s sanity is on the line). “Tomorrow after practice you are going to give this—“ Moriyama presses a letter into Kobori’s hand, and Kobori examines it curiously. “—to Kasamatsu. Say you found it in his shoe locker or something, I don’t know, he’s dumb enough to believe whatever you say.”

“What is this?” Kobori says, holding the letter between his thumb and forefinger. The piece of paper droops sadly. Moriyama sighs.

“It’s an anonymous confession letter,” he explains, “telling Kasamatsu to meet this mystery person in an empty classroom before practice tomorrow.”

“Are you confessing to Kasamatsu?” Kobori says, forehead wrinkling. Moriyama wants to _scream_.

“ _No,_ ” he says, forcefully. “It’s from Kise.”

“Kise wrote this?” Kobori says, forehead wrinkling even further.

“ _No!”_ Moriyama is _this_ close to shouting right now, but he does not. He will not. He is perfectly calm. “Look, the point is – we need to get them to actually _talk_ so that I can finally stop dealing with all this bullshit unresolved sexual tension and let my life finally go back to normal.”

Kobori doesn’t say a word throughout the entirety of Moriyama’s half-crazed rant. He takes it as a good sign to continue.

“So – you are going to give this letter to Kasamatsu and encourage him to go meet this mystery person, because it’s very likely that he’s not going to because he is a stubborn idiot who only has room for Kise Ryouta in his stupid lovesick heart, and I’m going to give another letter to Kise telling him to go to the same classroom at the same time, and they are going to actually, finally _talk_ ,” Moriyama finishes. Kobori is still silent. Moriyama looks at him expectantly.

Finally he says, “What if it doesn’t work?” and Moriyama is about to answer when he realizes he never actually considered that. Huh.

“It’ll work,” is all he says instead, waving his hand noncommittally. “Trust me.”

Kobori looks at him doubtfully, but thankfully doesn’t say anything further.

-

Moriyama gives Kise the letter first thing in the morning, delivering his well-rehearsed manifesto about how he should go and meet that poor person who’s unwittingly given their heart away to Kise, because even if Kise doesn’t return their feelings ( _ha_ , if only he knew) the least he could do was to let them down gently.

The bait seems to work, because Kise takes the letter from Moriyama, although somewhat unwillingly, and Moriyama proceeds to spend the rest of the day in a generally pleasant mood.

That is, though, until he walks out of his last class of the day and realizes that he left his History textbook in his third period classroom.

“Shit,” he mutters, waving off his friends when they ask what happened, and he turns back where he came from, crossing the hallway back to the classroom to retrieve his missing textbook ( _that thing was_ expensive _, dammit, and more importantly he’s scribbled a ton of master plans on how to get Kasamatsu and Kise together in its pages. He can’t afford to lose it, not if he’s going to start a successful matchmaking business one day)._

He reaches the classroom, head filled with thoughts of his future highly acclaimed multimillion-dollar firm, and throws open the door carelessly.

At first Moriyama isn't quite sure if he's hallucinating, but then he realizes that he definitely isn't.

Kise and Kasamatsu are making out rather enthusiastically against a table, pressed together horrifyingly close.

It’s only after a brief moment that Moriyama recognizes that particular table as _his_ table, and that it's _his_ history textbook that's perched precariously behind where Kise’s leaning up against it.

Then the door slams against the wall, and the both of them look up.

There is a long moment of awkward silence.

“Um,” Moriyama says. He slides in to the classroom, both hands held up. Kise and Kasamatsu don’t even have the grace to untangle themselves.

“I’m just. Here for my textbook. Please carry on.”

He moves to the back of the classroom, grabs the textbook in question off the table, and then crabwalks back to the doorway.

Kise and Kasamatsu haven’t even moved a muscle this whole while.

“Maybe you should lock the door the next time,” Moriyama suggests, and then quietly closes the door behind him.

Well. He looks at the textbook in his hands, and then closes his eyes.

At least he knows his methods work, then. At least. Maybe one day when he’s swimming in all the money from being Moriyama Yoshitaka, Professional Matchmaker Supreme, it will finally be worth the mental scarring it took to get to that point in his life.

For now, he decides that he probably at least deserves to skip practice for today.


End file.
